


battle scars

by ravenraiyes



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Aww, Cute Kids, F/M, Next generation fic, ahsjdhfkalsdh, cute fluff in general, percababies, percabeth, percabeth family comforting bullied kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2373887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenraiyes/pseuds/ravenraiyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Annabeth's and Percy's kid gets bullied, there's only one way to deal with it. </p><p>And those means may or may not be legal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. extraordinary

**Author's Note:**

> **posted also at[ my tumblr ](praetorfrank.co.vu)**
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> **hope you enjoy little Bianca and Charlie Jackson :)**
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> **a/n: for rachel ([beckendorph](http://tmblr.co/mfvOVxUs8skAHsYegD0U3rQ) ) because i’d heard you’d been having such a horrible day. :( hope you feel better dear!**  
> 

It’s quiet.

 _Too_  quiet.

This is the first thing Annabeth notices - which is pretty unusual considering she gave birth to Percy Jackson’s kids. Glancing at the clock above the kitchen counter, she finds, with a surprise, that it is 2:30.

Had it been this time on any other day, the house would be full of raucous laughter and squealing kids chasing each other around the living room.

 _So what’s wrong?_  she wonders, traversing in and out the rooms out of curiosity, looking for the life forms that usually resided in the Chase-Jackson household.

 

As she approaches a sparkly pink bedroom door, aptly adorned with huge block letters (in, you guessed it,  _pink_  ) that spelled out the name, “Bianca Jackson”, she can hear her husband’s deep soothing voice, murmuring something intelligible to Bianca.

Pushing open the door, she is shocked to find her little girl, her baby, covered in dirt and darkened soot, complete with a skinned knee. Of course, her natural reaction is to find to the bastards who did this to her baby and sock them in the face. But Annabeth shoves aside that violent side of her (for later), and kneels down on the ground next to her Seaweed Brain.

Bianca is whimpering gently into Percy’s chest, and Annabeth’s heart breaks in that instant. Her raven black hair is curled up in places, a little damp from freshly shed tears, and her desolate cries tugs at Annabeth’s heart as Percy tries to quell her sobs. Gently taking Bianca from Percy’s arms, she pats Bianca’s back, gently bouncing her up and down to calm her frazzled nerves. Annabeth looks to Charlie for an explanation as Bianca’s cries continue to gradually soften, shrinking to short gasps of breath as she attempts to stop bawling.

Her son, bless him, very nearly  _growls_  when he relates the story about his younger sister; how two very mean guys in Bianca’s class had made fun of her dyslexia, calling her ‘stupid’ and other demeaning remarks, the insults growing worse until they had shoved her down to the floor in an attempt to display their dominance as the alpha males. Charlie worriedly stands over Annabeth’s shoulder, watching his sister in concern as efforts are made to wipe tears away and snot cleared from every surface.

“T-they w-were mean to me, mama,” she sniffles, and Annabeth’s heart breaks all over again.  _Why are kids so cruel?_  she wants to wail, but unfortunately, she’s never really had experience with this kind of stuff - having a god as one of your parental units  _and_  running away from home at seven years old are not exactly parts of what you’d call a normal childhood.

So of course, Annabeth, being  _Annabeth,_  will rely on logic, something that she has endless amounts of.

Smoothing back hair from Bianca’s face, Annabeth holds her at arms’ length, making sure that they’re at eye level so that she understands every single word that Annabeth is about to say.

“They were just jealous, honey. You know why?” At this, Bianca’s green eyes are enlarged, the big puppy dog eyes ( inherited from Percy ) hanging on to every word that is spoken. “Because dyslexia makes you a tiny bit different from everyone else. And that’s a good thing, because if everyone in the world was exactly the same, this place would be a bit boring. Think of it like this, honey: dyslexia is your superpower. Only amazingly gifted people like you have the power to see the world differently than others.” Annabeth pauses for emphasis, bopping her child on the nose, eliciting a giggle from her.

“You know, this means you’re kind of like Annie in the bedtime story Daddy always tells you guys.”

Bianca wipes away any tears immediately at the mention of Annie (Annabeth doesn’t want to spoil the surprise that Annie is an actual real-life heroine; better to save that for another day) and sits straight up in surprise, spine straightening as memories of bullies are tossed aside.

“R-really?” Bianca sniffs, lip wobbling in an attempt to smile, rubbing her nose with her pointer finger.

“Really.” Annabeth nods, hugging her daughter close, reluctant to release her back into the cruelty of the real world. She wishes that kids weren’t like this, teasing others for differences that they can’t control, but it’s just how the world is. It’s just how the bullies are dealt with, Annabeth supposes, examining the scrape on Bianca’s knee carefully, internally wincing at the angry red marks on her otherwise smooth skin. Annabeth gently pats her daughter’s knee, grinning as she sweeps Bianca into her arms, carrying her bridal-style as shrieks of laughter clear air.

“Let’s go patch up your battle scars, princess.”


	2. trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So of course, Charlie can't let his sister have all the fun...
> 
> and ends up in the principal's office for all his trouble.

John Kaufman peers at the child’s name through thick rimmed glasses. The name, Charlie Jackson, stares back at him unflinchingly (but then again, he _is_ looking at ink printed onto paper). He leans comfortably against that prized padded chair of his, a lovely worn thing, pondering the reason for the child’s appearance in his office as he awaits Charlie’s arrival.

He’s read the file; a straight-A student, perfect behavior, and most importantly, no previous blemishes on his record for misdemeanor of any kind.

 _So why would this child start now?_ he muses as a timid knock interrupts his inner monologue. Hastily shoving papers aside - his lousy organization skills are to blame for the pigsty he works in - he welcomes in Charlie Jackson.

John doesn’t know what to expect, but it’s surely not _this_.

The kid’s a walking stick, as if his bones decided to grow and leave the rest of him behind. Knobbly knees stick out from under his cargo shorts, and lean fingers wrap themselves nervously around bony hands as the child steps into his office. Glancing at the child as John interlocks his fingers on his lap, he wonders if Charlie really did beat up the two most troublemaking boys in the third grade.

“Now, Charlie,” he starts, taking in the kid’s stoic face, eyes brimming with happiness while his bruised skin and split lip suggested a different story. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Yeah,” Charlie sits up just a little straighter, gray eyes seemingly glaring into John’s soul with an intensity that sorta scares the shit out of him. As if the kid’s daring him to condone his actions.

Which of course, makes John want to find out his side of the story even more.

“And why did you attack Bobby Malone and Dylan Robertson - ” at this John pauses, lifting up his glasses to get a better glance at the sheet of paper Agnes typed up. “who, are, in fact, two grades younger than you?”

Charlie brushes his jet black hair away from his face, defiantly staring at John over his desk, and shrugs. “They were being pretentious uppity jerks to my sister. They made her cry, so I made them pay for it. It’s only the right thing to do, really.” Charlie spoke these words so matter-of-factly , as if it was an opinion that should be known worldwide, that John wanted to hug the little sucker right then and there.

[But Kaufman is a professional in his professional environment, so he is limited to congratulating the boy in his mind. And besides, showing favoritism among students wasn’t exactly protocol (though this kid was really edging the line).]

“Well, while I can’t exactly fault that, Charlie; here at Meadows Hill Elementary, we condone that kind of physical violence. I do understand that you feel you must have vengeance upon these poor boys, but there are better ways to sort them out. Understand me?”

“And since this is your only misdemeanor - in what I’ll hope to only be the last of the first - I won’t have to call your parents. This time, anyway. If it happens again, I will be forced to call your guardians to go through this meeting with us. Got it Charlie?”

“Yessir,” the kid nods his head, a toothy grin appearing on his face as the bugger realizes he’s going to get off scot-free. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

John nods in approval, leaping up from the padded leather as he opens the mahogany door for Charlie, who seemed too happy to escape the meeting unscathed. As the raven haired kid flees out the door, John can’t help but make one last remark.

“Did you get a good punch in, at least?”

“Oh, _did_ I!” came the enthusiastic reply and another gap-toothed smile. “You should’ve seen the other kids - I’m pretty sure I busted Bobby’s lip and gave Dylan a black eye.”

You didn’t hear this from me, _but_ ,” At this John leans in close, grinning widely, dropping the stern principal facade at once. “Up top.”

He’s pretty sure the resulting high-five breaks his hand, but that’s okay.

(Man, that kid is _way_ stronger than he looks)


End file.
